


falling slowly (eyes that know me)

by mysterytwin



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: (but not really), College AU, F/M, Fluff, Journal 3 spoilers, Slow Burn, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-03 16:43:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10971258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysterytwin/pseuds/mysterytwin
Summary: Pacifica smiles at him, her blue eyes shining bright enough to light up the whole town. She waves at him one last time, a golden strand of hair falling perfectly into place.And in that moment, as the sun’s last rays illuminate the sky, Dipper wonders if he’ll ever see a star that shines as brightly as she does.





	falling slowly (eyes that know me)

It starts with a coffee shop. Like always, there’s a boy and a girl. There’s a boy and a girl and their eyes meet in a passing glance, a brief and short moment that strikes something in both of their memories. They can’t remember a lot, only the parts that really stand out, but it’s still there. They remember.

And there’s only one thing the boy thinks of when he sees her.

( _her eyes are as blue as ever._ )

As for the girl, a million things race through her head when she sees him.

( _a ghost, a muddy floor, a red sky, a llama, a dream demon, a deal—_ )

And she blinks, once, twice, thrice — but she still can’t believe that it’s him. It’s really him.

(and okay, yeah, he looks a different — a _lot_ different — but she’d recognize the messy hair and the sheepish smile anywhere. she could recognize those eyes in an instant. it’s unmistakable. it’s him.)

But at the same time, it couldn’t possibly be him. Could it?

First of all, he’s so much taller than her. A head taller, to be exact. They used to be about the same height. And he’s not wearing that stupid pine tree hat of his anymore, or that blue vest. In its place is a dark blue hoodie with a small, blue pine tree on the left corner. Pacifica doesn't doubt that his sister made it herself.That can’t possibly be him.

But it is.

She narrows her eyes. “Who are you and what have you done to Dipper Pines?”

His lips crack into a smile. “It’s nice to see you, too, Pacifica.”

Dipper’s having a little hard time taking it in that the girl in front of him is, in fact, Pacifica Northwest. Her blonde hair is curly at the tips now, but the bangs are everpresent. Her lips are formed into a small smile — so different from the thin line that he’s been so accustomed to, the expression she wears to hide emotions, to hide who she really is. But it was mostly because of her parents, and he knows that. She looks happier now.

And don’t even get him started on her eyes.

(they’re the same ones and he knows it. they’re the same eyes that were like ice the first time they met; the same eyes he avoided looking directly at the first time she hugged him. the same eyes that said _thank you for everything_ the last time he saw her on his thirteenth birthday.)

Dipper feels like he should say something else to her, yet he can’t seem to find the words. But then it seems as if he doesn’t have to — it’s not long until he feels Pacifica’s arms wrapped around his waist, pressing her cheek against chest.

It feels oddly like the hug that had come six years prior, but this time — _this time_ , Dipper returns the hug, embracing her before she can let go. It feels like he just found something he’d lost long ago.

A friend, maybe.

Once she lets go — and god _help_ her because her cheeks are burning and she can feel her heart pounding — she puts up a smile and asks, “Do you want to have some coffee?”

And she holds her breath and watches as his eyes flicker to the counter and back to her. He smiles. “Why not? Isn’t that what we’re both here for?”

And they find themselves seated in a small booth in the corner, and Pacifica orders two cups of coffee.

(she feels the same, fake smile come up on her face as she orders. she ignores the urge to get mad at her parents again, at herself. she’s better now — and for sure, the smile she gives the boy in front of her is a real one.)

Dipper’s eyes shine bright. “I haven’t seen you since we were thirteen. Well, you were twelve.”

She shakes her head. “Thirteen. I’m older than you.”

“What?” he asks, surprised. “You can’t be — no, I don’t accept it. You can’t be.”

“Deal with it, Pines. I’m older than you,” she says smugly as she leans back and crosses her arms. She smiles when she sees the dumbfounded look on his face. “So how have you been?”

“Pretty good, actually,” he tells while rubbing the back of his neck. “It took a while, but I finally found a decent college that could take me and my weirdness in.”

“You’re not that weird.”

He gives her a pointed look.

“Okay, fine, I was trying to be nice, but you _are_ weird. What kind of name is Dipper, anyway?” she jokes.

“I sort of go by Mason now, actually,” he tells her with a sheepish smile. “I figured no one would take me seriously if I was named after a constellation.”

“Oh,” she says softly. His name is Mason. Mason Pines. It makes more sense actually. “Okay.”

“Yeah.” Dipper’s head lowers.

“But if it means anything,” she adds while watching his head snap back up to look at her, “I think I like Dipper better.”

“Well, you’d be the first one here,” Dipper says with a grin.

(a part of her heart melts, but she’s not sure why. stupid grin making her feel things she doesn’t understand. ugh.)

He takes a sip of his coffee. “Hey. Can I ask you something?”

“I won’t promise that I’ll answer.”

“That’s fine by me.” He hesitates — what if it’s too personal? “How come I never saw you again? In Gravity Falls? Mabel and I, we came back every summer. I couldn’t find you.”

She bites her lip and tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “Didn’t you hear? After we lost the mansion, we moved a lot. We were broke most of the time. Then by the time I was sixteen, I moved out. Found my own place here, and here I am.”

He stays silent.

Pacifica takes another sip of her coffee. Great. Now he’s judging her. After all, it wasn’t often that the great Northwests fell from the sky.

(and she’s lost another friend, hasn’t she? but then again, she never had a lot to begin with.)

“I’m sorry,” he says finally. His fists begin to clench and his eyes darken (and it’s so weird because she’s never seen his eyes like that before; they’ve always been so warm and gentle). “If it wasn’t for me, Bill would’ve never gotten out and you wouldn’t have had to live like that—”

“Dipper,” she says calmly.

“—and I’m sorry you had to go through all of that—”

Her hand takes his from across the table, and Dipper pauses mid-sentence. He blinks and stares at her.

She smiles. “Dipper, it’s not your fault. It’s not. It was bound to happen, anyway. And besides, I’m a lot happier now. My parents don’t count my every move and I can _choose_ for myself. If anything, I’m thankful.”

He takes a deep breath.

(her eyes seem more blue than they’ve ever been and his stomach is doing somersaults. and oh dear, she’s holding his hand. _his hand._ )

“Okay. If you say so,” Dipper says after a moment.

(okay, more than _a moment_. his heart needs take a chill pill. wait. no. he didn’t mean that. he didn’t say that. ugh, thank god this is only in head — it’s embarrassing.)

It takes her a while to realize that her hand is still touching his. She jerks it back, feeling her cheeks turn hot. Dipper’s face is a little pink, too.

Thankfully, a distraction comes to her aid in the form of a phone alarm. Her time is up.

“Hey, sorry, I have a class in ten minutes,” she explains as she grabs her bag and stands up. Pacifica smiles. “I’ll see you around?”

He nods. “Of course, yeah, see you soon. It was nice seeing you again, Pacifica.”

“You, too, Pines.” With that, she walks out of the coffee shop, breathing in the afternoon air. Her heart is beating a little faster than normal and she feels a smile land on her lips — and this time, it’s a real one.

* * *

  
  


They meet, yet again, in the coffee shop. And as it goes, he’s no longer a customer there, but he stands behind the counter. She’s a little surprised to see him with an apron on.

“Dipper?” she says. “Since when did you work here?”

Fortunately, there’s no one behind her in the line, so there’s no rush for him to reply.

“I, um, the day I saw you again — what was that, a week ago, I think? — I actually came here to apply. For a job. And I just sorta got sidetracked when I saw you — not that it was a bad thing! It was great seeing you again — and it’s nice to see you again now. It’s always good to see you!” he rambles as heat starts creeping up on his cheeks.

(oh, he needs to stop embarrassing himself in front of her.)

“You didn’t think so when I first met you,” she replies quietly and a little ashamed. “You hated me.”

“I thought we were past this. You apologized already, remember? Mabel already forgives you, and that’s good enough for me,” he tells her with an honest smile. “Now, what would you like to order?”

She ends up ordering hot chocolate and takes a seat somewhere near the corner and next to the window. The sky rumbles from above, and a raindrop falls from the sky. Pacifica wishes she’d brought an umbrella.

The coffee shop is nearly empty, save for her and an older woman constantly on her phone. Pacifica brings out her laptop, and tries to start the essay that was assigned the day before.

She doesn’t have much luck writing it, even until a slice of cake slides its way on top of her table, courtesy of the one and only Dipper Pines. Before she can speak or return the cake, he smiles and walks back to the counter without looking back.

She eats the cake, anyway, and by the time it’s all gone, she has half of her essay finished. Pacifica stares back at the sky. What if — what would her life be like if she hadn’t sucked up the courage to leave her parents? Would she even be in college? Would she have eaten that cake? Would she have even met Dipper again?

(all the answers are no.)

She sighs and watches the trees sway with the wind.

“Are you okay?” Dipper greets her with another smile — slightly awkward, but good enough. His apron is off and he slips into the chair across her. “Was it the cake? I’m sorry, I thought it was a good idea at the time—”

“It was fine,” she interrupts. “It tasted great. Thank you. How much was it?”

He blinks. “No! I mean, the cake — it was on me. Don’t worry.”

“Are you sure? I can half with you if you’d like, it wouldn’t be fair if I let you pay for all of, it and you didn’t even get a single bite,” she replies as she rummages through her wallet.

“Pacifica, it’s okay. You don’t have to,” he tells her again. “Really.”

“You don’t think I can pay for it,” she states while narrowing her eyes.

“What? No! I wouldn’t—”

“Jeez, Dipper, just because I don’t live off my parents’ money anymore because that they’re broke doesn’t mean that I can’t pay for a _slice of cake!_ ” she argues.

(who did he think he was?)

“No, I didn’t mean it like that! I just wanted to give you something! You know, like a reunion gift of sorts!”

(this is going terribly wrong.)

Her eyes lighten up and her fists unclench. She blinks. “Oh. I—”

“You don’t need to apologize. It’s my fault,” Dipper says.

“No, I—” her words get caught in her throat. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t even have a reason, I’m sorry, you were just trying to be nice—”

He takes her hand. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m sorry, too.”

She nods slowly. Pacifica shuts off her laptop and puts it back in her bag. “How’s Mabel?”

Dipper brightens up instantly. Just like she knew he would. The guy loved his sister to death. “She’s doing great, yeah, she got this art scholarship in one of the nearby schools. We could go visit her, if you’d like. Just ask.”

“Oh, thanks,” she says. “Some time soon, then.”

The rain begins to put down, hard and fast. She really should’ve brought an umbrella. How is she supposed to get back to her apartment now?

She looks at him. “You don’t happen to have an umbrella, do you?”

Dipper shakes his head. “I wish I did, but I guess we’re both going to have to wait this out.”

“Yeah,” she says, “I guess so.”

They both fall silent, and for some reason, Dipper can’t make himself meet her eyes.

(he’s afraid he won’t be able to look away.)

“I could try to see if they have any umbrellas in the store room,” he suggests lamely because really? Who would keep an umbrella in a coffee shop? “It’s worth a shot.”

She smiles a bit. “No, you don’t have to, I think it’s better if I just stay here. I might get a cold if I go out there. And the rain seems pretty hard, too.”

Dipper grins. “You just want to stay here, don’t you?”

She scoffs. “Even if I did, it’s a nice place.”

“Yeah, but you just want to stay here because I’m here,” Dipper teases, a bold move on his part.

(he’s scared of what she’ll say; he holds his breath.)

And to his complete, utter surprise — Pacifica blushes.

(and his heart gets stuck in his throat.)

Pacifica recovers quickly. “Don’t flatter yourself, Pines. Even if I was on fire and you were the only person in this world with a bucket of water, I wouldn’t even bother.”

He presses a hand to his heart. “Ouch. You hurt me, Pacifica. And here I thought we were starting to be friends.”

She rolls her eyes. “As if.”

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I was being foolish, for how could a humble Pines boy ever become friends with the Northwest heiress?”

And then Pacifica _actually_ laughs.

It strikes Dipper to his very core — he’s never really heard her laugh before, has he? And it sounds amazing.

(he really has been missing out.)

Dipper grins.

Pacifica’s laugh turns into a smile. “I hate to break it to you, Dipper, but you’re anything _but_ humble.”

He crosses his arms. “What makes you say that?”

“Just a hunch,” she replies wryly. “I’ve known you long enough to know.”

Lightning flashes in the sky before Dipper can come up with a reply. He sees Pacifica jump, startled by the sound.

“You okay?” he asks, a little softer. “I could get you more hot chocolate, if you want.”

She gives him a grateful look. “I’m okay. Stop worrying about me. How about you? How far do you live from this place?”

He shrugs. “Two blocks away,” he tells her. “The tall, grey building on Second Street.”

She nods. “I don’t live far off. Just a block nearer.”

Dipper smiles. “Then you can come and visit any time.”

She scoffs. “As if I’d ever want to,” she replies sarcastically, but the smile on her face tells him otherwise.

(his heart. it’s making him feel things he can’t really explain.)

It takes an hour and a half until the rain settles down into a soft drizzle. The clouds let a little sun come through, but it’s almost sunset by then.

Pacifica stands up, grabbing a jacket from her bag. She puts it on. “I guess that’s good enough for me now,” she tells him. “You coming?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I guess I am,” Dipper says while standing up. He puts his hoodie over his head and places his hands inside his pocket to shield his fingers from the cold wind.

The smell of the rain has always been one of his favorites. The pavement is filled with puddles, and he lets himself step on each one — because hey, these aren’t his favorite pair of shoes and what better way to get rid of them than by getting them wet?

“You’re getting water on my feet, Pines,” she says with a huff.

Her feet are barely shielded by her flats. Dipper jumps into a much bigger puddle, causing her to shriek when the water hits her jeans up to the knee.

She narrows her eyes and stomps into a puddle, an evil glint in her eye when the water reaches Dipper’s face. He wipes it off, but he can’t keep his face dry for long, not with the rain falling in his face.

Pacifica smirks. “That’s what you deserve, Pines—”

Her sentence is cut off by Dipper jumping into another puddle, soaking her jeans a little more. She glares at him.

“Why, you little—”

Dipper jumps into another puddle.

“I can’t believe you—”

He jumps again.

“I—”

Pacifica starts to run. And so does Dipper, only because it’s the only way not to face the wrath of Pacifica Northwest.

And while he’s running, with the rain hitting his face and the water splashing beneath his feet, Dipper feels alive.

Pacifica catches up to him eventually, shoving him forward. She laughs, and it’s bright and loud and clear. It’s amazing.

(her hair is plastered all over her face and the hood of her jacket had long fallen off, but her eyes shine like stars and Dipper can’t shake off the thought that he’s never really seen anyone as beautiful as her in that very moment.)

“Well,” she tells him breathlessly, “if we were going to end up like this, we should’ve went out into the rain a little earlier, don’t you think?”

Dipper nods, grinning. “Definitely.”

They start walking until Pacifica pauses and says, “Well, this is my stop.”

He stares up at the building, a tall one and a little bit fancier than his own apartment building. Of course. It’s Pacifica.

He holds out his hand with a soft smile. “It was nice seeing you again.”

Pacifica takes his hands and shakes it. Her hair is golden with a gentle curl in the last fading rays of the sun, making her look like, well, a princess.

(it suits her.)

“Nice seeing you, too, Pines,” she tells him. “I’ll see you around?”

“Always.”

Pacifica tucks a strand behind her hair and her cheeks are tinted pink. She smiles one last time and turns around to open the door.  

Dipper’s heart bursts.

(is it just him, or was there some vibe going on?)

  


* * *

  


The next time he sees her is when he’s stumbling into class, mumbling apologies about being late. His head is hung low as he walks to a seat in the back row, the professor shaking his head and continuing the lesson.

“That was quite an entrance,” she muses, an amused smile playing on her lips.

“ _Pacifica_? What are you doing here? I thought you were taking up business—”

“I am. This is just one of the required classes. Otherwise, why else would I be here?” she asks, but most of her attention is on her notes, scribbling away whatever the professor was talking about.

“I don’t know, to see me, I guess?” Dipper suggests while starting to take his own notes.

She rolls her eyes. “Once more, do not flatter yourself, Pines.”

“How come I’ve never seen you here before, then?” he asks, a little more quietly as to not disturb others.

She takes a moment before replying, wiping her bangs out of her eyes. “I used to sit at the front, but some kid beat me to it today. I’m quite annoyed, actually.”

“Why do you sound like you’re planning revenge?” Dipper asks cautiously.

She purses her lips before an evil smile appears on her face. “Well, maybe I am, Dipper. Maybe I am.”

“You can’t be serious,” he deadpans. “Not on something this — something so _petty_.”

She huffs. “Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I live on pettiness. How do you think I’ve gotten this far?”

“Hard work and dedication?”

“Nope. Pettiness and spite, humble peasant. Those are the secrets on how to become a thriving ruler,” she says with a satisfied smirk.

“Really? I always thought it was being honest and dedicated,” he tells her with an eye roll, as he takes a quick glance at her from his original gaze at the slide the professor was showing. “Guess I was wrong.”

Pacifica hums in agreement. “Wrong and naive. Poor Dipper.”

“I’m glad I have you, then,” he says with a grin.

(he really is.)

“You sure are,” she agrees. Pacifica looks away before she lets herself second-guess the meaning of his words.

(she’s glad to have him, too — not that she would ever say it out loud.)

The class ends an hour later, and Dipper places his textbook back in his bag, packing all of his stuff before leaving.

He turns to Pacifica. “Hey, are you heading back to your apartment?”

She meets his eyes after a moment. “Yeah, why?”

Dipper shifts foot nervously, his fingers lingering on the strap of his brag. He avoids her gaze, but even then he can already feel the heat rising to his cheeks.

“I was wondering, you know, well, I was thinking that maybe…um, maybe you’d like to, er,” he mumbles quickly as his hands make inadequate gestures to follow along with his words.

“Dipper?”

He takes a deep breath. “I was wondering if you wanted to go get some coffee. There. I said it. The coffee shop’s celebrating ten years of being open and they’re treating all the employees to free coffee for the whole day, and I figured I could get you some if I tried. But it’s totally fine if you can’t come, since you’re probably busy, with I don’t know, a manicure?”

Pacifica’s face remains expressionless. Then, her face softens and a smile breaks out.

“I would love to.”

  


* * *

  


It doesn’t take long until Pacifica has found her place in Dipper’s apartment and has even left some of her things in the unused drawer of his closet. She takes her place on his couch like always, devouring a bowl of popcorn as her eyes remain concentrated on the romcom she has playing on his television.

Dipper, on the other hand, is attempting to finish his homework.

(it’s not turning out quite well.)

“Hey, do you mind turning it down a little? I can’t focus,” he tells her, frustration seeping into his voice. “And your occasional outburst about the characters’ ignorance isn’t helping either.”

Pacifica pauses it and turns around to look at him. “You’re just jealous I got all my homework done early and you’re still cramming,” she says with satisfaction. “Jealousy doesn’t really look good on you — has anyone ever told you that?”

He crosses his arms. “Just turn it down, Paz. Please.”

“I still don’t like that nickname. It’s dumb. But fine, whatever, I’ll lower it if it makes your sad excuse for an essay better.”

“How do you know it’s not good?” Dipper questions as he narrows his eyes. “For all you know, it could be the best damn essay anyone’s ever read.”

“You would’ve finished it by now if it was.”

“What happened to ‘good things come to those who wait’?”

“It was replaced by ‘time waits for no man’.”

Dipper scoffs. “My essay is great and you know it. Heck, it’s the best thing I’ve ever written.”

“Then let me see it,” she bites back as she raises her eyebrows. “I’ll judge it.”

“No!” he exclaims. “You can’t.”

“Why? Afraid it’s not good enough?” she says.

“No, it’s just that it’s not finished yet,” he mumbles.

“But if it’s good as you say it is, then that shouldn’t be a problem,” Pacifica counters while looking at her perfectly manicured nails.

“The ending is always the best part!” he argues. “It matters!”

“The ending isn’t exactly what one would call the content, you know. Maybe you’re just having trouble accepting—”

“Alright! You win!” he says as he throws his hands up in the air. Avoiding her gaze, he adds softly, “I haven’t even gotten past the first sentence.”

Pacifica bursts out laughing.

“It’s not funny, okay? I mean — I know what to write about, I have all the facts and the supporting details, and I know what to avoid, but it’s just. It’s not coming out right.”

Her laughter dies out as she watches Dipper chew his out of stress and frustration.

“Do you want me to help you?” she asks softly. “Maybe I could help you past whatever that’s stopping you.”

He takes her words into consideration before meeting her eyes. He takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

Without another word, Pacifica stands and moves towards him, staring at the screen of his laptop.

“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do this right,” she tells him seriously.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re making me nachos right after, got it?” she instructs, her blue eyes narrowing in seriousness.

Dipper salutes. “You got it, my lady.”

* * *

  
  


There’s something in her smile that makes Dipper’s heart race. He can’t quite put his finger on it, though. Her cheeks becoming even more rosy when their eyes meet — it sure is something. And the way her eyes shine — there’s butterflies in his stomach just thinking about them.

He’s not sure what it all means.

But all he knows is one thing: he’s not letting her go. Not again.

Because he’s her friend and there’s something about that friendship that’s too precious to lose. Because that friendship means something to him — and he’s not willing to give it up for the world. And that’s what it is and always will be: friendship.

But as Pacifica takes his hand and drags him toward the coffee shop, the wind blowing in her hair and her laughter filling up the air, Dipper’s heart gets stuck in his throat and he can’t stop the way the heat rises to his cheeks. Pacifica looks back at him and smiles.

(is it just him or is there something there?)

  


* * *

  


When Dipper runs late to the same class he has with Pacifica, he’s about to take his usual seat at the back while mumbling apologies when he sees that someone else in his place. He stops mid-step, watching Pacifica mouth ‘sorry’ at him, and takes the seat at the front.

He’s sandwiched between a snoring boy with a beanie and a girl with wireless earphones on. Dipper slumps in his seat and takes his notebook out again. Before starting to write and listen, he turns around to look at Pacifica again.

And to his surprise, she’s already staring back at him.

Then she sticks her tongue out.

Dipper fights the urge to laugh, his shoulders shaking in silence instead as he turns to face the professor.

Minutes later, he turns around again to see that Pacifica has her cheeks puffed out. Then she continues to make another face at him, sticking her finger next to her eye. And then another. And again.

And suddenly Dipper lets out a small laugh, but it’s loud enough to catch the attention of the professor. And the entire class.

The professor glares at Dipper, who only slumps in his seat even more. Once the old man’s back is turned again, Dipper turns around and gives Pacifica a pointed look. She grins and makes another face, her chin doubling up.

Dipper shakes his head, but makes a face at her in return.

Pacifica laughs, her eyes squishing and her cheeks turning a little pink.

(she looks beautiful.)

(wait. what?)

(he can’t. no, he couldn’t possibly. it’s not like he lays awake at night thinking about her. but then again, isn’t she the reason why he missed his alarm this morning? he was thinking about her last night. her and her pretty smile and even prettier eyes and how he wants to take her hand and never let go. how he wants to be able to run his fingers through her hair and kiss her—)

(oh no.)

( _oh no_.)

* * *

  
  


“My parents are in jail,” she says as she plants herself on the couch. “They want me to bail them out.”

Dipper is a little taken aback by her words. He’d always wished that they’d get what they deserved for lying to the town for years and using that stupid bell to control Pacifica, but he never thought that something like this would actually happen. There’s a mix of emotions that’s going on, but most of it is relief.

So, for Pacifica’s sake, he asks her calmly, “Are you going to?”

She shrugs. “That’s what’s troubling me. I don’t know if I should.”

“Well, do you think they deserve it?” Dipper says while taking a worried glance at her. “They’ve always been awful. To you, and the town. Pacifica, they controlled you with a _bell_. That’s totally messed up.”

Pacifica stays silent for a moment. “I’m not sure if I have enough money to help out, but maybe if I get a job and ask for some help from my other relatives, I might be able to—”

“Pacifica, you can’t! This is what they deserve! After all these years, you’re going to help them? That’s ridiculous! You can’t do that—”

“But they’re still my parents, Dipper! Yeah, I know they’re awful and the worst; no one knows that better than I do. But they still raised me, even if they didn’t do a good job. I can’t let them rot in jail!”

“Yes, you can, Pacifica!” Dipper argues as he throws his arms in the air and stands up. “They deserve this!”

“No, they don’t! Fifty years, Dipper! They’ll die in there! I can’t let that happen!” Pacifica’s eyes are starting to water because the whole goddamn point of telling her best friend what happened is that she would get support. Not this. “They’re still blood. If you can’t understand that, then—” she chokes on her words. “Then I think you should just leave. I have better things to do than fight with you, Mason.”

And without another word, he does.

  


* * *

  


It’s been ten days, four hours, thirty-eight minutes, and seven seconds since their fight — but who’s counting anyway? Definitely not her.

So maybe he does have a point that her parents _do_ deserve it, but he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand what it’s like to receive a phone call from her father _begging_ her to bail them out. To hear her mother crying in the background and apologizing. He doesn’t understand that.

And there is no way she’s apologizing because it’s not her fault.

(okay, so _maybe_ she should’ve let him stay and let him try to see her point better, but what’s done is done.)

And even though a huge part of her is screaming about telling her to just show up at his door and apologize because she can’t handle not talking to him and not seeing him as much as she used to and ignoring him, she just can’t. As much as it pains her to have him purposely sit at the front row in class even though the seat next to her is unoccupied, she just can’t apologize. It’ll hurt her pride too much, break down the walls she’s built over the years, take away everything her parents ever taught her about how _Northwests don’t apologize, Pacifica!_ _Remember that!_ But even though—

No. She can’t.

And yet she does anyway.

Pacifica finds herself walking out the door and to his apartment, the harsh cold numbing her cheeks with every step and  making her curse herself for forgetting her jacket back at her place. She hesitates a moment before knocking on his door, afraid of what to say. And what he’ll say.

And at the same moment that her fingers meet the door, it opens before her, revealing the one and only Dipper Pines.

Her face turns red instantly and she puts her hand back down.

“Dipper,” she mumbles. “I came to—”

“Don’t apologize, Pacifica,” he cuts her off. “I was just about to leave to apologize to you, funnily enough. I thought about it and I’m sorry. I saw why you want to do it — why you’re going to do it. I’m sorry for not trying to understand. I do now.”

She allows a soft smile to spread on her face. She takes his hand. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have shouted. I guess I just want my best friend back, you know? I’m sorry, Dipper.”

He opens his arms for a hug. And Pacifica lets herself take in his warmth.

“Do you want some nachos?” Dipper asks after the embrace. “I was making some as a stress-reliever. Or coffee. Whatever you want.”

“Nachos sound good,” she tells him before stepping inside his apartment like she used to. “Thanks.”

(she’s relieved.)

He smiles. “Any time.”

  


* * *

  


“Staring, much?” she asks dryly as she wraps her jacket a little tighter around her to protect her from the freezing cold. “You could’ve been less obvious, you know.”

“Sorry,” he mutters, immediately breaking contact. “I just thought you looked really nice today.”

“Nice try, Pines, but I probably looked horrible because of the cold,” she replies. Pacifica touches takes off her beanie to touch her hair. “Is there still snow in my hair or something?”

“No,” he says. “And I was being honest. You _do_ look really nice. Cute.”

(there are stupid butterflies in her stomach again and she wants them _gone_. she never asked for this, and she doesn’t really understand why they’re even there in the _first_ _place_ because it’s just her and Dipper in that little coffee shop and he’s sort of making her blush and he has that stupid, little grin on his face again and she kind of just wants to hold his hand and maybe kiss him under the rain and—)

(oh.)

( _oh._ )

* * *

  
  


Mabel is still as bright and bouncy as ever.

She’s a lot taller now, obviously, but still two inches shorter than her brother. But for one who didn’t know who Mabel Pines, she might’ve even looked a bit intimidating, with her height and posture. But her eyes remained as light and happy as always.

“Pacifica!” she exclaims, immediately wrapping the blonde in a bear hug.

Pacifica stumbles backward, but embraces the girl anyway. “Hey, Mabel. Nice to see you, too,” she says with a small laugh. “Jeez, Dipper didn’t warn me about how taller you’ve gotten.”

Mabel grins. “And the dear old brother o’ mine didn’t tell me about how prettier you’ve gotten. You’re gorgeous, Pacifica!”

“Thanks.” She sits down on the couch in the apartment. “But I don’t doubt you look even better than I do.”

“Hey, Mabel, please tell me you haven’t murdered Pacifica in my absence—” Dipper’s voice comes through before he shows up at the door. “Oh. So you haven’t killed her yet. Good.”

Mabel places a hand on her heart. “Why would you ever accuse me of such a thing, brother? You know I would never.”

Dipper chuckles. “The last few years don’t tell me that.”

Pacifica looks at both of them. “Please don’t tell me that you guys are actually criminals and you’ve been planning to kill me all this time.”

“She’s figured us out,” Mabel whispers.

“Time to activate Code 22!” Dipper exclaims.

The twins then share a look before laughing.

Pacifica leans back, shaking her head. “So, Mabel, how are you?”

“Good, great, amazing. Hey, do you want some Mabel Juice? It’s better this time, I swear, no plastic dinosaurs or anything like that inside,” she tells her with a cheeky smile. Now that her braces are off, her smile is even brighter than before.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Pacifica says. “It better be good or I’m leaving.”

“You know it’s gonna be!” Mabel replies. “How come Dipper didn’t bring you here earlier? I’ve been soooo lonely. And plus, Dipper talks about you all time! It’s hard not to be jealous!”

Pacifica turns to Dipper. “You talk about me?”

“I—” Dipper’s blushing furiously as he avoids eye contact.

“You made me live a lonely loner’s life, bro bro. You should be ashamed,” Mabel says while shaking her head.

“She was always busy!” Dipper argues as he raises his hands in defeat. “She’s here now, isn’t she?”

“Guess he just liked keeping me to himself,” Pacifica comments humorously while crossing her arms. “He’s a little clingy, you know.”

Dipper goes beet red. “I am not!”

“Sure,” she replies sarcastically. “As if you’re not always asking me to come to the coffee shop or his apartment. Talk about lonely.”

Mabel giggles and Dipper brings his hand to his face and groans. Pacifica smiles.

A stretched out hand passed her a glass of juice, most likely the Mabel Juice she’d asked for. Inside the glass is a hot pink liquid with two ice cubes. No other solid ice cubes besides that, so Pacifica thinks it’s safe enough to drink. She takes a sip, taking in the sweet taste.

“It’s actually pretty good,” she compliments.

Mabel raises a fist to the air. “See, bro bro? Someone finally liked my juice!”

Dipper shakes his head, but a faint smile appears on his lips. “I’m going to go make some real food. Nachos, anyone?”

“Yes, please,” Pacifica tells him.

The moment Dipper disappears behind the door, Mabel turns to look at her, hair swiveling past and landing on her face. She blows them away.

“So, Pacifica,” Mabel trails, a mischievous glint in her eye. “What’s up with you and Dip N’ Dots over there?”

Pacifica fights off a blush and scoffs. “Me and him? That would never happen.”

“Uh huh,” Mabel says, unconvinced, as she pretends to look at her nails. “And I have a pet pig.”

“Mabel, you _do_ have a pet pig,” she points out. “Where is he, by the way?”

“That’s not the point!” Mabel exclaims. “Waddles is in my room, sleeping — but this is not what we are talking about, Pacifica Northwest! We are talking about my brother!”

“There is nothing going on between him and I,” she says. “I swear.”

Mabel raises her eyebrow. “Okay. Whatever you say, Pacifica. But I _so_ get to say ‘I told you so’ when you guys end up together.”

She rolls her eyes. “That’s _never_ going to happen.”

(and yet, a part of her hopes it does. she’ll never say that out loud, of course.)

(that would be embarrassing.)

“Besides,” she adds. “Your brother clearly doesn’t see me that way, so what’s the point.”

“See, Pacifica, that’s where you’re wrong,” Mabel says as she cracks her knuckles. “I haven’t been around much, but even I can tell that he looks at you like you’re the reason the world keeps spinning.”

  


* * *

  


Dipper comes with her to visit her parents in jail for moral support. Also because Pacifica had asked him to and he couldn’t say no.

And a part of him wants to stand between Pacifica and her parents in case they bring out that stupid bell again. He’s ready to help this time.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asks her.

Pacifica is a pale bundle of nerves next to him, hugging herself tightly. It’s been two years since she last saw her parents. Two years. She doesn’t know what she’s going to do.

(she’s terrified. her heart is beating fast and her knuckles are turning white.)

“I’m scared, Dipper,” she whispers. “What if they—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says softly. “Look at me.”

Pacifica’s eyes reopen and they meet his — warm, light brown against strikingly blue ones. There’s fear inside of them.

“They won’t do anything to you,” he reassures her. “I’ll make sure of it. You have me this time, Paz. I got you.” With that, he slips his fingers through hers, passing her a smile.

Her eyes tell him thank you.

The Northwests enter through the door, backs straight and heads held high. They’re as snooty as both of them remember.

“Pacifica!” Priscilla exclaims the moment her eyes land on her daughter. “I was starting to wonder if you would ever visit!”

The guards guide them to a table, and all four of them sit down. Dipper’s hand doesn’t leave hers.

(she’s afraid that if he does, she’ll fall apart.)

“Mother,” Pacifica greets monotonously. “You look well.”

“I’ve been better,” she says. Priscilla eyes Dipper with question. “I see you’ve brought the Pines boy.”

“When do you plan on bailing us out?” Preston interrupts rudely. “Pacifica, it has been two months—”

“I don’t have enough money yet,” Pacifica says shakily. “I’m already working at this coffee shop to earn a little more thanks to Dipper here—”

“That is not enough!” he exclaims while slamming his fist on the table.

Pacifica jumps in her seat. She’s almost like a helpless child again. “Father, I’m trying—”

“Well, try harder! I did not raise you to just settle for small things!” he shouts. “You are a Northwest, Pacifica, you _must_ get us out of here!”

Pacifica opens her mouth to say something, but Dipper beats her to it.

“Mr. Northwest, if I may say something, it’s this: Pacifica has a choice on whether she’s going to bail you out, and at first, I told her not to. But she didn’t listen to me because she, well, she cares a whole lot about you. And you might as well treat her _right_ because we could leave right now and not look back and you’ll end up stuck here for the next fifty years. So if you don’t want that to happen, then I suggest you lower your voice and respect your own daughter.”

Preston clamps his mouth shut and lowers his head. Dipper’s fist is clenched, and Pacifica squeezes the hand she’s holding on to.

He looks at her. She smiles a bit, as if to say thank you. He smiles back.

“What I was trying to say is that I’ve asked some of our relatives to lend some money, so that—”

“Our reputation! Pacifica Elise Northwest, how could you—”

“Then how do you suppose I get you out?” she snaps. “It’ll take me years to earn enough money on my own, surely you’ve realized that it costs quite a lot to bail you out for all your crimes.”

Preston is shut down for the second time.

Priscilla bites her lip. “Pacifica, I’m sorry—”

“Save it,” Pacifica interrupts. “I heard enough from both of you. Now, Dipper and I have a class in an hour, so we need to leave. I’ll visit when I can.”

She stands up, Dipper in tow, their fingers still linked, and leaves before the signal bell can even ring. She doesn’t want to hear it.

Dipper coughs. “Well, that was—”

“Do you want some coffee? I really want some. Let’s go get some,” Pacifica insists, but she’s already dragging him away to the nearest coffee shop.

* * *

  
  


“You ready?” Dipper asks as he looks at her.

She rolls her eyes. “It’s just work, not a war. If anything, I should be asking you that. You look tense.”

“The owner’s watching over today, in case you haven’t heard. We could get fired if we mess up,” he tells her worriedly. “And I actually like this job.”

“He can’t be that bad,” she says while putting on her apron. She ties her hair up, keeping her hair out of her eyes.

“It’s a _she_ , actually,” he corrects as he puts on his own apron. “The last time she was here, about two months ago, the guy in my shift got fired. You weren’t here yet, so you didn’t see the assassination that took place.”

“She can’t possibly be _that_ bad,” Pacifica says again because — really? She’s probably faced worse.

A middle-aged man walks through the door, greasy and confident, and heads over to the counter. “Black coffee, please. Make it as bitter as possible,” he tells Pacifica.

She nods and turns to Dipper. “You make, I’ll cashier. Black coffee, extra bitter.”

He nods and heads to the side for cups and then to the machine for the actual coffee. Once he’s done, he hands it over to Pacifica.

The man hands her the money, and she hands back the change.

“Keep the change, sweetheart,” he says with a wink. “Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t be working at a small place like this. There’s a bar nearby taking in new—”

“No, thank you,” Pacifica says sweetly while ignoring the urge to vomit. “I like this place, it pays good. Enjoy your coffee, sir.”

“Well, the offer’s still up, pumpkin, and I’ll be there all week if you ever change your mind,” he says, showing all his teeth when he smiles, all crooked and yellow. “I—”

“Sir, I mean no disrespect, but my friend already said no. So it would be great if you took a seat or left because there are other people who need coffee,” Dipper interrupts, suddenly appearing at her side.

The man winks at Pacifica one last time before turning around to leave.

“What an ass,” she hears Dipper mutter.

She turns to look at him, crossing her arms. “I could’ve handled that myself, you know.”

“Sure looked like it,” he says sarcastically.

“I was doing fine!” she argues. “I’m not some girl in distress, Dipper!”

He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes for a moment. “Okay, I’m sorry. I just didn’t trust the guy.”

“Neither did I,” she tells him. “But I guess a thank you is also in order. So. Thanks.”

Dipper scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. I’m sorry.” His gaze lingers at the door. “Now, the owner could come at any time, so we need to stay alert.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re overreacting.”

“I am not,” he says before leaving the counter to clean up a table.

She leans back and crosses her arms. Pacifica brings her nails closer to her face in order to examine them. The thought of her parents in jail makes her shudder a little — what if something happened to them? What if she’ll never earn enough to bail them out? What will she do then?

The door to the coffee shop opens once more, and Dipper’s head snaps to look at who it is. It’s _her_. The owner, Luna Bautista, walks in, chin held high. Her eyes scan the room before continuing. She walks to the counter where Pacifica—

oh no.

Pacifica doesn’t even take notice, and continues to look at her nails. Dipper panics, and tries to wave at her, but she doesn’t look up.

(dammit, Pacifica, _look_!)

Miss Bautista coughs, loud and clear, causing Pacifica to finally look at her.

Pacifica’s eyebrow raised slightly, a little skeptical. “Hi, there,” she greets in the same voice she always uses with customers. “What would you like?”

(for a brief moment, Dipper thinks she’ll actually survive. she’s Pacifica, after all.)

“I’ll have a Double Ristretto Venti half-soy, nonfat, decaf, organic, chocolate brownie, iced vanilla, double-shot gingerbread frappuccino, extra hot with foam, whipped cream upside down, double blended, one Sweet N’ Low and One Nutrasweet, please,” the owner says with a too-sweet smile.

Pacifica stares at her disbelievingly, but proceeds to nod anyway. “Okay. It’ll be out in a sec, please take a seat.” She eyes Dipper from the other side of the room and gestures for him to come over as Miss Bautista takes a seat in the corner.

“What the heck is that?” she asks him furiously. “How are we supposed to make that?”

Dipper shakes his head, holding in a laugh. “That, Pacifica Northwest, was Miss Luna Bautista, the owner of this place. Just leave it to me, Paz. You got the order, right? Just repeat it over and over, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay,” Pacifica agrees. She says the order again, slowly. After she’s done, she says, “I’ll go give her some water. And maybe a piece of my mind.”

He turns around too late. “Pacifica, no—”

Dipper can only watch with horror as Pacifica makes her way to the owner, a glass of water in hand. She places it on the plate and starts to say something he wishes he could hear.

Then, to his complete, utter surprise, Miss Bautista _laughs_.

She says something to Pacifica and his friend walks back with a satisfied smile on her face.

“What the _heck_ did you say to her?” Dipper asks the moment she comes back. “You do realize that you just—”

“Talked to the woman you’re afraid of? Yeah, I know. She’s got a pretty good sense of humor,” Pacifica tells him.

“You know what? I don’t even what to ask  about what you said to her. Here,” he hands her the drink. “Give it to her. She seems to like you already, so.”

She teases him with a “You’re just jealous,” before leaving to give the drink.

A few minutes later, Miss Bautista is standing in front of the counter again, assessing them.

“Pacifica, is it? What’s your last name?” she asks with authority.

“Northwest,” she answers.

Miss Bautista turns to Dipper. “And you, Mason?” she asks, clearly reading off his name tag.

“Pines.”

(he wouldn’t ever admit that his voice cracked in that very moment. and here he thought that he was already past the whole thing.)

“I like you two,” she says after a moment of silence. “You work well together. Keep it up.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles.

“Good bye,” she says with a smile before turning around to leave.

Dipper breathes out a sigh of relief. “I’m glad that’s over.”

Pacifica laughs. “She’s gone and you’re still overreacting.”

“I am not!” He’s blushing furiously.

She laughs again. “Aw, did I hurt your feelings, you big baby?”

He crosses his arms and looks away. But as she continues to laugh at him, stray hairs falling onto her face as her head tips back, Dipper thinks—

she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

(and he swears that not a single bit of him is overreacting.)

* * *

  
  


It’s finals week and Pacifica is lying on the floor, contemplating whether college is worth the aggravation or not.

At this point, the stress and anxiety is going to eat her alive. She’s not going to make it. She wants to scream and cry even more and maybe eat that tub of ice cream in the fridge because goddammit, _she can’t do this._

And so she starts to cry.

And that’s the exact moment Dipper Pines walks through her door, finding his best friend on the ground with tears in her eyes.

“Pacifica!” he exclaims, quickly rushing over. “Are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt?”

She only cries a bit louder. On normal days, she’d be embarrassed that he caught her in such a vulnerable position, but she’s too exhausted to care.

She only shakes her head in reply, whimpering. Dipper places an arm underneath her head to help her sit up. But the thing is, she doesn’t want to. She only pushes herself back down with the little force she had left.

“Pacifica, don’t — ugh, come _on_ ,” Dipper says with a grunt. “You’re being too hard on yourself.”

“‘m not,” she mumbles while fluttering her eyes shut. “This is what I deserve. Let me rest in peace, Dipper.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Paz,” he tells her. “You know, once I actually _did_ raise the dead. In fact, I still remember the incantation. I think it went something like this: _Corpus levitas_ —”

“No!” Pacifica shouts abruptly, as she sits up straight. He might be lying to her about the whole ‘raising the dead’ thing, but with Dipper’s reputation with the strange things in Gravity Falls, she really didn’t want to take her chances. “I mean — no, jeez, Dipper, don’t do that. No necromancy in my apartment, got it?”

He laughs, his arm going to scratch the back of his neck. His cheeks puff out, turning a little pink.

(oh no, he’s cute.)

Pacifica can feel the heat on her cheeks — and goddammit, _stop staring_! But she can’t. Her eyes are frozen on the way his eyes are shining as he looks at her, the way his lips are so pink, and the way his hand rests on her hand. The contact burns her skin. For some odd reason, she doesn’t want him to move.

“So I take it you feel better?” Dipper asks, after his laughter has died down. “I could make you some nachos, if it’ll help.”

“Nothing can help me at this point,” she says with an exasperated sigh. “I can’t continue.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, you _can_. You just don’t want to.”

She squints her eyes at him. “How come you’re not falling apart? It’s finals week, Dipper! What sorcery is this? Is it, like, crystal magic or something? Whatever it is, I don’t care, give it to me!”

He chuckles. “Pacifica, I think it’s called sheer will and determination.”

She huffs. “Wrong answer.”

“Well, what do you want me to say? To be fairly honest, I still have some studying to do, and yet I’m here, procrastinating.”

She tilts her head back, using her arms to support herself. Humming, she says, “Procrastinate with me, yeah?”

“Nope,” he says as he attempts to stand up. Keyword: attempts. Pacifica takes ahold of his arm and tugs. “Come on, I’ll help you study.”

“Hmph,” she says with a small pout. “I hate college.”

“Yeah, I think college hates you back,” Dipper says humorously. It’s a little weird for him to see the ever graceful and calculated Pacifica Northwest break down, but he’ll help her get back on her feet no matter the cost.

(he can’t believe having a crush makes him so _sappy_.)

“Come on,” he repeats. “At least get on the bed, Paz. The floor’s dirty.”

“Excuse you,” Pacifica mutters. “I make sure to clean this stupid floor every damn day, you know.”

“Now, it’s your turn with the witchcraft,” he says. “How do you have time to clean your apartment?”

“Guess I’m just great that way. You don’t even wash your clothes, I bet.”

“Washing clothes is a waste of time!” Dipper says, frustrated. “Listen, Paz. You’re not going to get anywhere if you lie there all night. _Please_. For me?”

(curse her stupid heart.)

“Fine,” she mumbles. “Yeah, okay.”

Pacifica makes her way to the bed, where her notes are spread all over, highlighters scattered. She blinks once, twice, and starts to read again. She doesn’t get very far until Dipper comes over, sitting down next to her and passing a glass of water.

“Thanks,” is all she says.

She flips through her notes in silence, watching Dipper bring out his own notes from the corner of her eye. He takes one of the highlights from the bed, and she resist the urge to roll her eyes at the color he chose.

She reads one more sentence before glancing back at Dipper.

“Uh, Dipper?” she says. “You do realize that you’re highlighting the entire page, right?”

“Huh? Oh,” he stutters, staring at the blue-filled page before him. “Um, they’re all important?”

She rolls her eyes. “Sure they are.”

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “Distracted.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Pacifica tells him. “Just hope that your notes forgive you.”

“Funny,” he says dryly.

“You don’t need to tell me. I already know I’m hilarious,” she says proudly.

He snorts. “You’re just as egotistical as the day I met you.”

“ _Me_? Egotistical? I am not,” she says. “I’ll have you know that I am anything but.”

He waves a hand at her dismissively. “Uh huh. Whatever you say, Northwest.” Dipper stretches his arms upward. “You feeling better?”

“Could be better,” she tells him.

“How so, my lady?” Dipper asks with a smile. “How may I help you feel better?”

She places her hands on her hips, pretending to think.

(if you’d kiss me—)

(no.)

“Go make me some nachos,” she demands, hoping that her face isn’t giving away what her mind is thinking.

Chuckling, he stands up and heads to the kitchen — not without making her heart flutter. There are butterflies again.

Like always.

  


* * *

  


They’re walking back to their own, respective apartments as the sun begins to set in the sky, leaving dark hues of purple and pink and orange. It’s beautiful, really.

It’s been an awfully long day of exams and serving people at the coffee shop, but it’s way better now that finals week — hell week — is over. It’s a lot more peaceful.

“Are you going anywhere tomorrow?” Pacifica asks suddenly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“No, not really. Why?” Dipper says as he sways his arms back at forth.

Pacifica lets a bemused smile play on her lips as she watches him. “Let’s go ice skating.”

He stares at her. “Pacifica, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have the balance of a newborn deer.”

She hums. “You know, if you’re referencing Bambi, you could’ve just said so. I wouldn’t judge.”

He grunts. “Yeah, right,” he mutters sarcastically. “But yeah, Bambi. That’s me out there.”

“Then I’ll teach you. If you fall, I’ll take it personally upon myself to buy you ice cream afterwards,” she tells him. “Promise.”

He pretends to consider it, but he knows she already knows what he’s going to say. “If I end up embarrassing myself, it’s your fault,” he says clearly.

She nods. “The odds of that are likely, but yes, I’ll take the blame.”

“Hey!” he exclaims, pointing a finger at her, but he doesn’t feel insulted in the slightest way.

“Oh, stop being such a big baby. You know it’s true,” she points out. “Plus, ice skating with Pacifica Northwest? That’s a big opportunity.”

“Yeah, I must be a lucky guy,” he drawls out flatly, “to even call myself a friend of Pacifica Northwest and have her invite me to go ice skating, even if she knows _fully well_ that I, in fact, cannot ice skate to save my life.”

His words make her laugh and he grins, as if that was his goal along.

(it was.)

“No, but seriously, you’re coming, right?” she asks. He wonders why it seems so important to her than he shows up. Why didn’t she ask any of her friends? She _had_ to have at least some friends besides him, right?

“Yeah, yeah, I am,” he says with a wave. “Only because you asked nicely.”

(and because he had a hopeless crush on her, not that he would ever say it.)

“I’ll see you tomorrow? At seven?” she asks as she stops. He realizes that they’re already in front of her building.

“Yeah,” he answers. Dipper looks at her, counting each freckle on her cheeks, as if trying to remember each one of them before she leaves. He knows that he’ll see her again tomorrow, but he’s not quite sure if he’ll ever be this close to her again. And so he stares, memorizing the curve of her face, the way her bangs fall into her eyes, the way her arms are placed behind her back, the way, the way her cheeks are always so soft and pink, and the way her lips tug into a ghost of a smile.

Has she always looked this pretty? Suddenly, he’s not sure. Maybe he’s never really looked at her. He’d always found her pretty, even when he first met her, but now? She’s beautiful.

Pacifica’s lips twist into a smile and steps forward, wrapping his arms around her. “Thank you,” she whispers.

Dipper is stuck frozen to the ground as she lets go and walks to the door, only looking back once.

Pacifica smiles at him, her blue eyes shining bright enough to light up the whole town. She waves at him one last time, a golden strand of hair falling perfectly into place.

And in that moment, as the sun’s last rays illuminate the sky, Dipper wonders if he’ll ever see a star that shines as brightly as she does.

* * *

  
  
  


“Well, aren’t you just an image of eloquence and grace,” Pacifica jokes, stifling a laugh as Dipper almost loses balance for the tenth time that day. “Such beauty, such grace—”

“You’re supposed to be _helping_ me,” he tells her through gritted teeth, trying to stay upright. “Not embarrassing me even more.”

“Alright, alright,” she says as she skates over with ease. Pacifica takes one his hands — she could’ve sworn that her fingers were numb just a second ago, but know it’s all warm and there’s a fuzzy feeling in her stomach. “Come on, we’ll start off easy.”

“You could’ve said that earlier,” he mutters, but there’s a hint of a smile growing.

Pacifica takes his other hand, raising both of their interlocked hands. “You walk forward, okay? Just like how you would normally do. One foot in front of the other.”

Dipper’s a little flustered by how close they are to each other, but he just hopes that he can pass off his blushing cheeks with the cold. “How are you doing that, skating backwards? Now _that’s_ witchcraft.”

Pacifica laughs and Dipper decides that it’s his favorite sound in the whole world.

His distraction makes him slip a little bit, but fortunately for him, she’s there to hold him upright again.

After a couple more steps of waddling, Pacifica says, “I think you should try sliding your feet now. Slowly, no pressure.”

And so he goes, attempting to glide smoothly on the ice.

“Bend your knees,” she instructs, “and keep your feet outwards.”

Dipper tries to do what she says, but it proves to be a lot harder than expected, since he has to keep his balance _at the same time_. It’s impossible.

He hears her laugh when his foot loses control yet again, and her grip on his hand tightens.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

“I think it’s time for me to let go,” she says after a moment. Her eyes are shining when they meet his. “Ready?”

“Nope,” he says as he shakes his head. Dipper smiles. “Let’s do it.”

And once Pacifica lets go of his hands, Dipper barely had time to register how numb his fingers truly are now that her warmth isn’t there anymore before he tries to glide forward with little luck. He almost slips and Pacifica reaches out to him once more.

“You okay?” she asks softly. It takes her a moment to realize how close their faces are, their noses almost touching. She can almost count his eyelashes. If she leaned a little bit forward, her lips would meet his—

(no.)

She blinks, helping him back to his original position. “Try again?”

“Okay, yeah,” he says, but his voice is a little distant. He just keeps staring at her. Dipper mumbles something, but she doesn’t quite catch it.

She snaps her fingers in front of his face. He blinks. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Zoned out for a bit,” he explains. “What were you saying?”

“Do you want to try again?” she repeats, slowly skating back. After she sees Dipper nod in agreement, she slides back even further. “Just…try to reach me, okay?”

Dipper starts out slow, skating through the ice, the handle bar a couple of feet away. If he loses his balance, well, that’ll be the end of it. Pacifica watches him intently, but he’s too focused on staying upright.

He looks up. “You’re getting farther! That’s why I can’t reach you! You’re cheating!”

She holds in a laugh. “I am not!”

“You _so_ are!” With that, Dipper skates even faster than usual, in attempt to get closer to her. It doesn’t work exactly the way he planned it to; the momentum is too much and he’s losing his balance and he’s so near Pacifica that if he hits her they might just—

They both fall to the ground, the ice freezing beneath them.

Dipper can’t help himself from laughing, and neither can Pacifica. He’s by her side and clutching his stomach, his fingers and butt numb.

After a moment, Pacifica attempts to get up. She does it successfully, grinning down at him. “And that, Dipper Pines,” she says, “is how you ice skate.” She gives him her hand to help him get up.

He shakes his head, but takes her hand anyway. For the second time, it doesn’t work because the force causes Pacifica to lose her own balance and to fall in front of him.

“Idiot,” she mutters as she wipes off the ice. She manages to get up again — how she does it is a mystery to him — and wipes off the ice on her hands. “You’re getting up by yourself this time.”

He groans, mostly because he knows he won’t be able to do it. Placing each hand firmly on the ice — well, as firmly as he can because the ice is, well, slippery, obviously — Dipper tries to stand, wobbling on the ice.

“Wow, you finally achieved something,” she says sarcastically. “Took you long enough.”

Dipper ignores her. “Do you want to take a break? I’ll go buy some hot chocolate. It’s freezing.”

“We’re on an ice skating rink, so obviously, it’s freezing—”

“You know what? I’m just going to ignore you and go buy us some hot chocolate,” he tells her before waddling to the bars to hold as he makes his way through the exit.

Pacifica shakes her head as she watches him leave. He may be the worst ice skater she’s ever seen in her entire life, but she’s glad he’s here with her. She didn’t want to spend the day alone. Especially this day.  

A few minutes later, Dipper’s searching the rink for Pacifica, two cups of hot chocolate, one in each hand. It takes him a moment before he finally finds her; purple jacket and blonde hair falling down her back.

She’s skating fast, twirling and gliding around the rink like she’s memorized it. He swears that her eyes are _shut,_ and although he’s not sure how she’s doing any of that, he ignores the thought and watches her. Some people have already chosen to stay at the side, watching her move throughout the rink. She twirls once more, ending with her arms extended behind her. She’s absolutely graceful. A few people start to clap — and if it weren’t for the hot chocolate occupying his hands, Dipper would’ve cheered the loudest.

Something beeps inside his pocket, and Dipper curses, placing one of the cups on a nearby table. He fishes his phone out of his pocket.

“Mabel? Aren’t you on your way to Gravity Falls? Why are you—”

“Dipper, hi, ohmygosh, can I talk to Pacifica? Is she there?” Mabel says quickly and excitedly through the line.

He glances at Pacifica in the rink, skating once more. “Not exactly, but I can relay the message.”

He hears her take a deep breath. “Tell her I say happy birthday, Dipper! Tell her that I hope she gets all the candy and the entire world and that Dipper spoils her senseless today! Tell her—”

“Wait, it’s her _birthday_?” Dipper asks into the phone, a little too loudly and a lot surprised. He looks back at her. “She didn’t tell me—”

No wonder she was so insistent that they go ice skating today. But why didn’t she tell him?

“She didn’t tell me,” he repeats, but it’s softer this time. “How did you know?”

“Well, I was searching her up on Facebook because it’s totally boring on the bus, and I saw that it was her birthday. Just tell her I greeted her, okay? I’m glad you’re with her today. After the whole stuff with her parents, you’re probably the only person she has, bro bro.”

( _the only person she has_.)

(and it’s you.)

(he’s such an idiot.)

“Yeah, I will, don’t worry. Call you back later, okay?” he says before hanging up. Dipper doesn’t take his eyes off Pacifica, watching her skate like there’s no tomorrow.

She catches his eye a moment later, her cheeks bright pink and hair a little frizzy from her mini-routine.

“You were _amazing_ ,” he tells her the moment she’s in earshot. There’s a short wall separating them, but Dipper is still able to hand her the cup. “How did — since when — I knew you could skate, but not like _that_.”

She takes a sip. “Mother made me take lessons when I was a kid during the summer. And please, I was totally out of practice. I haven’t skated in years, but I’ve always loved it.”

“Guess it payed off,” he says with a small smile. “Hey, do you want to go out for dinner with me? There’s this nice restaurant I saw on the way here, and it seemed pretty cool.”

“Sure,” she agrees. “Just let me get these shoes off first.”

Pacifica skates to the exit, and sits down on one of the chairs, untying the shoes. She brings it to the counter, and the lady puts it back on the shelf.

Dipper watches her. She doesn’t act like it’s her birthday. And is she even going to tell him? Is that in her plan for the day?

(and goddammit, why did he never ask her when her birthday was?)

“Stop staring and let’s go,” she commands when she reaches him, nudging his shoulder with her own. “Dork.”

He rolls his eyes and leads her outside, where the sun is starting to set and the stars are beginning to come out.

“The sky’s pretty,” Pacifica mentions after a moment of silence. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes light as she stares up at the sky. Up close, he can almost count each one of her freckles. “I love the colors.”

Dipper doesn’t look away from her. “Yeah. Pretty.”

Pacifica looks back at him, her cheeks turning red when she catches him staring at her. She looks down at her feet, not saying another word.

Dipper, on the other hand, is having a hard time breathing. His face is so hot; he can barely even feel the cold. His heart is racing, and sow thing is happening in his stomach that he cannot quite explain.

(it takes him a while to calm down.)

They reach the restaurant, a bright and blaring sign reading down on them. It’s Italian, not that Dipper really knows anything about Italian food, or Italy in general.

“Lead the way, my lady,” he says with a teasing smile. Pacifica only rolls her eyes and pushes the doors open, the scent of spaghetti and other fancy foods that he can’t pronounce seeping through. “Table for two, please.”

The waiter nods and leads them to a table. They’re seated in the corner, right next to the window where they can see people walking by and the stars slowly appearing.

“This place is nice,” Pacifica says. “I’m surprised you have good taste in restaurants.”

He frowns. “Hey! I take offense to that,” he tells her. “You can just say I’m amazing Pacifica. You don’t need to be all sarcastic about it.”

“Suit yourself,” she says as she takes a sip of water. “If that brings you happiness, then so be it.”

“You’re the most genuine person I know,” he compliments sarcastically. “Really. You truly are.”

She smiles, but it’s not exactly genuine. “I’m flattered, Pines. I really am.”

(he thinks he should bring up the fact that it’s her _birthday_ , but he’s not sure how. or when.)

“I had fun today,” he says instead. “I sure as hell can’t skate, but watching you do it was worth the embarrassment, I think.”

“You think?”

He holds his hands up in defense, a white flag. “Yeah, okay, it _was_ pretty fun. Even when you kept making fun of me. Are you happy now?”

Pacifica hums, satisfied. “Very,” she quips. “But as a side note, I’m glad you came. I wouldn’t want to be that loner ice skating girl, you know? So. Thanks for coming.”

He hopes that his smile isn’t as wide as he thinks it is. “Can’t we just make it the main note, you know, instead of a side one?”

Pacifica only rolls her eyes, but smiles anyways. “Compliment fishing isn’t a good thing, you know.”

(if it’s from her, he knows it means the world. and besides, Pacifica Northwest doesn’t give out compliments easily, even if it’s in the form of a sarcastic retort.)

“I know,” he says as he looks through the menu. “But still worth it.”

“Cheeky,” she comments. “You ready to order?”

“Yeah,” he says as he attempts catch the eye of a waiter.

A girl with a uniform about their age comes walking towards them moments later, a smile plastered on her face.

“I’ll have a risotto, please,” Dipper says. The waitress — Lacy, her name tag reads — only stares at him, not even bothering to write down the order. He feels a little weird under her gaze.

Something in Pacifica’s stomach burns, hot and ugly. She doesn’t like it at all. “Pasta carbonara,” she manages to say, glaring at Lacy.

The waitress only stays, his gaze never leaving. She gestures to Dipper. “Would he like anything else? My number, perhaps?”

“I — uh…” he tries to say.

“That’s it, thanks,” she snaps, a little harshly. Her eyes turn stormy,all clouded over and contrasting to the normal light blue. “We’re good.”

Lacy’s shoots Pacifica a glare as she takes both of their menus, giving Dipper a wink before turning around to leave. Dipper doesn’t fail to notice how her hips sway with much more enthusiasm that before.

Once she’s out of sight, Dipper turns his attention back to his best friend, but he only stares at Pacifica, a little sheepish. “Um, I—”

“Not a word,” she says steely, without looking at him, instead focusing her gaze on the outside world. “Not a single one.”

He raises his arms in defense, trying to meet her eyes — but with no luck. “I wasn’t going to — I mean, I sorta was — but now that you don’t want me to—”

“Dipper,” she interrupts. “If you want to go talk to _Lacy,_ then that’s fine by me. Just say so. I won’t mind.”

Contrary to her words, her tone tells him otherwise. But why would she mind, exactly? She’s never been like this, not around people, but now that Lacy was actually — flirting, he supposes, with _him_ , Pacifica had gone off. Does that mean she—

_likes_ him?

(no, of course not. it’s just that it’s supposed to be a Dipper and Pacifica dinner. not a Dipper and Pacifica and Lacy dinner. and besides, it’s her birthday. it’s _her_ special day. not anyone else’s.)

“I’m sorry,” he says softly as he reaches out for her hand. If she doesn’t feel like being touched, she doesn’t show any signs, only letting her hand lay there. Dipper, on the other hand, is trying — and failing horribly — to keep his heart calm. “I — it won’t happen again.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” she mumbles, as she shakes her head. She finally meets his eyes. “I was just being — silly. And dumb. Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, either,” he tells her. “Besides, it’s about time the good ol’ Dipper charm worked its magic, huh?”

Pacifica cracks a smile, but doesn’t hesitate to roll her eyes. “Yeah. I suppose so. Though I’m pretty sure that it was one-time use type of thing.”

“Maybe,” he says.

(he hopes it’ll work on her. what are his odds?)

(unlikely.)

Dipper moves his hand back once he realizes that it’s been there for too long. Way too long.

“Maybe,” she echoes, a fond smile appearing on her face. “Hey, do you want to come over tomorrow? I downloaded all the episodes of Ghost Harassers, and I was wondering if you’d like to go for rewatch with me.”

Dipper grins. “You had me at Ghost Harassers.”

“Typical,” she says with another eye roll — no surprise there. “Do you want to get coffee after this?”

“Don’t you think you’re tired? You were going pretty hard while you were skating,” he says.

Another waiter comes over — not Lacy, thank god — and delivers their food. It smells delicious.

“I sort of just want this day to last forever, you know?” she says with a deep sigh. “It’s been a good day.”

“Yeah, I guess it was,” Dipper agrees as he takes his fork and starts to eat.

Pacifica stands up. “I need to use the bathroom, be back quick.”

“Don’t let your food get cold!” he exclaims after her. But the moment she’s out of sight, Dipper signals a waiter over. “One slice of chocolate cake, please. And could you add a small candle to it? Maybe serve it in around thirty — no, twenty minutes? Thank you.”

The waiter nods and turns around. Pacifica comes back moments later, and Dipper feels a little excited for what’s to come. He’s glad that he saw a casing full of cakes and brownies when they came in.

“I’m pretty sure you’re food’s all cold now. You took too long,” he teases as he takes another bite.

“Did not,” she says, and brings her fork to her mouth. “ _Wow_. This is really good. Here. Try some.” Pacifica dumps some of her carbonara onto his plate.

Dipper takes a bite. “Damn,” he mutters. “That’s, like, the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Ever.”

Pacifica hums in agreement. “I know, right? It doesn’t beat ice cream, but it’s still good. I think I’m in love.” Thank you for introducing me to this place — more importantly, this amazing pasta. I think I’ll eat it for the rest of my life, thanks.”

Dipper chuckles. “I could almost say the same, but nothing will ever beat ice cream, Paz. Nothing.”

“Someone seems very passionate,” she says teasingly. “I never would’ve guessed.”

“You should see Mabel and Smile Dip. I’m pretty sure she’s the reason they banned it, but she always manages to find some. It’s, like, they’re soulmates or something.”

Pacifica laughs at that. “Uh huh,” she says as she takes a bite of her pasta, sa voting the flavor. “My soulmate would be this pasta for sure.”

(any chance he could replace it?)

Once they finish their meal, the waiter catches Dipper’s eye and nods. His fingers drum on the table, a lot more anxious than excited all of the sudden.

What if she didn’t like it? Maybe there’s a reason she didn’t tell him in the first place. Maybe she hates her birthday. Maybe he shouldn’t have done this. Maybe he shouldn’t have melted at her smile when she asked him to come along. Maybe he should’ve—

The slice of cake comes along a moment too soon and Pacifica gasps when she sees the candle on top of it. Her eyes are wide, staring back at him, almost like she’s questioning how he knew in the first place. So he tells her.

“Mabel told me,” he admits sheepishly, his hand going to rub the back of his neck out of habit. “Well, technically, she told me to greet you happy birthday, so yeah. She says happy birthday. I guess I’m saying it too right now — happy birthday! Mabel said she looked you up on Facebook, and saw the date and I guess that’s why there’s a cake here right now. But you know that, since I pretty much told you everything — and oh god, I probably sound so stupid right now, I’m so sorry. Sorry.”

Pacifica doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at him, her eyes only at the chocolate cake in front of her, only at the lit candle staring back up at her.

“Pacifica?” he calls out nervously a moment later. “Are you mad? You’re probably mad. I mean, I should’ve told you I knew before getting you this cake. And it isn’t even a cake, it’s just a slice of it, really. I just. I didn’t know how to tell you and I’m also really confused about why you didn’t tell me, but I guess I don’t really have a right to ask that or anything—”

“Dipper,” she interrupts, and he looks back at her to find a smile growing on her face. He calms down. “Thank you.”

He blinks. “So you’re not mad?”

She shakes her head, but the smile never fades. That’s a relief. “No, silly. I’m actually really…grateful. I wasn’t really expecting anything since, well,  since I didn’t tell you, obviously. But…wow, I would hug you right now, if it weren’t for the table between us.”

(dammit.)

He laughs, a little shakily. “Yeah,” he manages to say. “But why didn’t you tell me?”

Pacifica shrugs. “I’ve always had such grand parties for my birthday, but this time, I guess I thought that I wanted something a little low-key this time.”

“Your definition of low-key is ice skating?” Dipper quips, taking a sip of water. Before she can speak, he adds, “Go blow your candle. Make a wish before we get sued for attempting to burn the place down.”

She rolls her eyes but does it anyway, hesitating a moment before blowing the candle into smoke. “You happy? And yes, ice skating is, in fact, low-key.”

“Are you going to tell me what you wished for?” Dipper asks. “Or are you one of _those_ people?”

Pacifica gives him — surprise! — another eyeroll. “Unfortunately for you, Pines, I am one of those people. It won’t come true if I tell you.”

He pouts. “Please,” he whines. “It won’t kill you.”

“But it’ll kill my wish.”

“It’s just a superstition.”

“And yet, both of us know that paranormal things like that exist,” she says.

“Fair point,” he tells her, leaning back. Dipper asks for the bill, moving a little away so that the waiter could take away their silverware. “But still unlikely.”

As Pacifica stands up, breathing the air of the city once more, she says, “I’ll tell you on one condition.”

“Anything,” he says without thinking.

“You buy me pizza tomorrow,” she demands with her lips pursed. The stars shine above her, and she remembers thinking how she used to promise herself that she would count it all one day.

“Wasn’t the dinner enough?” he groans. “Fine. What was your wish?”

“I wished,” she says with a dramatic pause, “that I would be able to count the stars.”

Dipper smiles and looks up at the sky. “Yeah. I used to wish that, too.”

(it was a lie. she wished that she would find love.)

(what she doesn’t know is that it already came true.)

So as they walk home, Pacifica figures to hell with her nervousness and take Dipper’s hand. Her skin tingles when it comes in contact with his, but not a single part of her wants to let go.

Dipper tries to count the stars on the way, but fails horribly. It makes Pacifica smile anyway, and she kisses his cheek once they make it to her apartment. She thinks, once she’s just about ready to fall asleep that maybe this birthday wasn’t so bad after all.

  


* * *

  


As Dipper makes his way back to his apartment, his cheek still tingling from where Pacifica had kissed him, he hears a buzz in his pocket — and it’s no surprise to see who’s calling.

“Dipper! I’ve been trying to call you _forever_!” Mabel’s voice rings through the speaker. Her breathing is heavy, almost like she had just ran a long distance.

“Hey, Mabel,” he says, ignoring what she had just said. “What do you want?”

“What? Can’t I just call my favorite brother in the whole universe without having to ask something of him? Do you really think I can’t do that?” Mabel says through the line. Dipper can imagine the suppressed grin on her face.

He rolls his eyes. “Firstly, Mabel, I know you better than I know myself. And secondly, I’m your only brother and flattery — or bribery — won’t work on me.”

She huffs. “When did you get so mean?”

He snorts. “Well, what do you want?”

Mabel sighs, exasperated. Her voice grows softer. “Can’t I just call my brother because I’m lonely?”

If it had been any other person, Dipper would’ve apologized in a heartbeat. But like he said, he knows Mabel. And he knows that Mabel had to be the least loneliest person in the whole planet. Plus, she’d probably just arrived at Gravity Falls because her college ended earlier than his. Totally unfair, in his opinion, but Mabel couldn’t _possibly_ be lonely in that town.

“How’s Grunkle Stan and Ford?” he asks instead, and his suspicions are confirmed when Mabel mutters something about him not being gullible anymore. He ignores that, too.

“They promised to take me fishing tomorrow, since they’re still busy figuring stuff out from their latest adventure. It’s really cool, actually. You’d like it,” Mabel tells him.

“Yeah, I’m sure I will.” Dipper unlocks the door to his apartment, breathing in the faint scent of dust. “Man, I can’t wait for summer. You’re so lucky.”

“I know,” his sister answers too sweetest and knowingly. “Waddles says hi, by the way. I think he’s actually starting to miss you.”

“Were my weekly visits to your apartment not enough for the guy?” Dipper jokes as he places his bag on the ground and settles onto the bed. “Tell him I say hello and he better not chew on my bag the next time I’m around.”

Mabel gasps dramatically. “Waddles would _never_! Who do you take him for?”

“A thieving and chewing misfit, that’s what,” he says. “Tell Stan and Ford I say hi when you get the chance. And don’t have too much fun without me tomorrow.”

Mabel hums. “Yeah, that _might_ be a problem, since I’m, like, the definition of fun, bro bro.”

He groans. “Mabel—”

“I’m just kidding! Kidding, Dipper!” she exclaims, laughing. “Besides, you’ll probably have some fun over there tomorrow! It’s Saturday! How can Saturday’s not be fun?”

“When you’re alone eating a bag of chips, that’s when,” he mutters, as he does, in fact, grab a bag of chips from the table and begins to eat it.

Mabel makes a sound with her tongue in disagreement. “You’re not alone! You have all those people in the same building as you! And Pacifica! Speaking of which — how is she?”

“She’s great, yeah,” Dipper tries to say without thinking about his tiny crush on her (okay, that’s a lie — it’s more than _tiny_ ). “I brought her to dinner on her birthday to make up for presents.”

“Well?” she trails.

“Well what?” he asks.

“What happened, bro bro? Did _anything_ happen? At all?” Mabel questions him further, and he can swear he sees her eyebrows raised in anticipation.

His voice cracks. “Why — why would anything happen?”

“Because you _like_ her, duh,” Mabel says flatly. “It’s so obvious, Dipper! Even a stranger could see it. It’s only, like, you and Pacifica who don’t know it. I showed Grunkle Stan that picture we took once — after all three of us when to the movies — and he said even he could tell you liked her. You were staring at her with heart eyes and—”

“Okay,” he interrupts. “Okay, so I might like her. Then what? It’s not like she likes me back.”

“Oh, you don’t know that, bro bro,” Mabel reassures him. “You know, there’s only one way to find out.”

He rolls his eyes. “As if I would ever think of telling her. That would be the end of it.”

“Well, do it for me then. Do it for your amazing sister. You don’t have to confess, just…”

“What is it, Mabel?”

“Bring her along when you come here!” she exclaims, all too loudly and all too excitedly. “It’s been _ages_ since she last visited, right? She could even stay with us at the Mystery Shack. Or McGucket would probably let her stay in one of the rooms at the mansion, give her an old, home-y vibe, you know?”

Dipper takes her words into consideration. “Why don’t you just ask her then?”

“Am I the one who wants to confess my undying love to her? No,” Mabel points out.

“Fine,” he says. “But I’m telling her that you’re asking.”

“It’ll seem less genuine,” she sing songs. “And don’t you think it’ll raise your chances if you invite her over? Don’t you want to spend a summer with her, too?”

Dipper stays silent. He imagines early mornings at the diner with Pacifica to get coffee, spending the rest of the day at the pool, and maybe a monster hunt or two before dinner with Mabel and Pacifica, and late evenings marathoning Ghost Harassers. What he does _not_ imagine is holding her hand on the way to the diner, having pool fights and making her laugh, hugging her after a good, ol’ monster hunt, and kissing her good night after a satisfying marathon.

He’s only glad Mabel isn’t there to see how flustered he is.

“Okay, fine,” he mumbles into the phone.

“Yes!” she exclaims. “I’ll text you the details in the morning.”

“Okay. I’ll tell her tomorrow. Good night, Mabel.”

“Good night, Dipper.”

This crush thing is getting out of hand.

* * *

  
  


After a morning full of rewatching half of Ghost Harassers, they’re walking down the road, the afternoon sun brightly making its way through the streets. Pacifica’s looking around, and that’s when she sees something that makes her grin.

Without hesitation — or rather, before her nerves can get the best of her — Pacifica takes Dipper’s hand and takes him in the direction of the newest ice cream parlor.

“You said you loved ice cream,” she explains before he can argue, which she doubts he will. “Now, come on. Since you  already got me pizza, I’m getting you ice cream.”

Dipper, as planned, does not argue, only lets her drag her the way she wants to, his hand burning at her touch. He’s not complaining. The bell jingles above their heads when they enter, the smell of ice cream immediately engulfing them.

“Flavor?” the lady asks, a middle-aged woman with more wrinkles than enthusiasm.

“Strawberry,” she answers, turning towards Dipper afterwards.

He clears his throat. “Rocky road, please.”

Pacifica raises her eyebrow. “Rocky road? Are you kidding me? That’s horrible.”

“Excuse you,” he says back. “It’s the best thing ever.”

She gives him a look that tells him that their conversation isn’t over. She hands over the money, receiving the ice cream cones in return, handing the rocky road one over to Dipper while making a face. He sticks his tongue out.

“It’s disgusting,” she comments.

Dipper pushes the door open for both of them. “You’re just jealous because strawberry isn’t as good.”

“Dipper, I don’t know what’s gotten into that deflated head of yours, but strawberry is, like, ten times better than rocky road. Heck, _anything_ is better than rocky road.”

“You’re jealous,” he sing-songs, towering over her. “Completely, absolutely, totally, utterly jealous—”

Pacifica shoves him, causing him to lose balance and stumble backwards. She laughs at his loss of momentum.

“Now you’re just jealous I can manage to stand upright,” she says with a smirk.

“Rude,” he tells her. Dipper’s just glad his ice cream didn’t spill or fall off. “That was uncalled for.”

“Rocky road was uncalled for,” Pacifica tells him as she continues to walk. “No one ever asked for it.”

“Why so much hate for an ice cream flavor?” he asks instead of thinking of another comeback. “What did it ever do to you?”

She bites her lip. “Second grade. Some girl dumped her cone on my head. I’ve never forgiven her or the ice cream.”

Dipper shrugs. “Makes sense. But not enough. I’m going to make you love it again.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

“You’ll see,” Dipper says mischievously. His eyes are toward the sun, watching it set before him. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“As long as it does not involve rocky road, I’m all for it, Pines,” she says.

( _just do it. do it now or you’re never going to do it._ )

(he can do it.)

“Um, so I was thinking, and you mentioned you weren’t really doing anything this summer except working, and I figured that it would end up being pretty lonely. So. I thought about it and I was wondering if you’d — um, if you’d like to come with me to Gravity Falls?”

She only stares into the sun, unblinking. How she does it, he’ll never know.

“Pacifica?”

“I’d love to,” she says softly. “Really, I would. But I can’t. I need to work; I need to earn for my parents — but god, Dipper, if I had a choice, I would. I’ve wanted to go home for a really long time now.”

“Oh,” Dipper says simply. “That’s the funny part, too. In case you said yes, um, I asked Mabel to ask around if anyone had open job applications, and um. Lazy Susan has been looking for an extra hand at the diner, if you’re interested.” He looks away, more embarrassed than nervous now.

“Oh,” she says. Her freckles are faded beneath her blushing cheeks.

Dipper realizes that maybe — he’d embarrassed her with his offer. He knows what she’s going to say next, that she’s going to turn away from him and walk into the sunset.

“Okay,” she says instead of everything he imagines. “Can you tell Mabel to tell Lazy Susan I’ll take it? The job, I mean? And about where I’m going to stay while I’m there — I’m sure there are some apartments lying around—”

“What did you just say?” he asks dumbly. “You said yes?”

Pacifica rolls her eyes. “Yes, Pines, I did. But even though, I still need to figure out where I can live.”

“McGucket’s letting you stay at the mansion,” he blurts out. “There are a lot of vacant rooms, but you know that, of course, since you lived there. But if you don’t like it there, the Mystery Shack’s always open.”

“Oh,” she says again, blinking. “You’ve got this all figured out, haven’t you?”

He stares at his feet. “Yeah,” he cracks a smile. “Yeah. I sort of do.”

“Well,” she trails. “I guess all I can say is thank you.” With those words, Pacifica presses a kiss to his cheek.

(are those going to be a thing now? because he’s not sure if he’ll be able to handle it, but he’s sure as hell not complaining.)

“See you tomorrow?” Pacifica asks, and it takes Dipper a good moment to realize that they’re standing in front of her apartment.

He coughs weakly. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

(he’s not sure if he’s going to make it to the next day if she keeps doing things to him.)

  


* * *

  


Pacifica’s heart is racing the moment she steps on the bus, feeling the wind beneath her hair and the smell of the forest ever so present. Her bag is behind her, full of clothes and other necessities. Dipper steps out of the bus after her, taking in the air.

“Welcome home,” he says. The bus has stopped at the Mystery Shack, where the sign is still fading and the wood is starting to peel off a little. In other words, it looks exactly how he left it.

Mabel comes running towards them before Pacifica can even take another step forward, attacking both of them with a hug.

“Oh my gosh! You’re here! You’re finally here!” she says, bouncing. “Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Ford! Soos! They’re here!”

The rest of the Pines family comes from behind the doors of the Shack, all hugging and shouting. Stan gives his nephew a good pat on the back (Dipper almost chokes), Ford gives him a hug (Dipper returns it), and Soos squeezes him (Dipper loses his breath).

And Pacifica stands at the side throughout all of it, awkward and silent.

It’s a while until Dipper notices her at the side. He takes her hand and shows her off to his family, all smiles.

Stanley Pines looks at her skeptically for a moment, but gives her a smile. If there’s anything that he remembers about Pacifica Northwest, it’s that she’s the girl who helped him look all over town for the twins when they were missing during the apocalypse — and that’s good enough for him.

“Welcome back, Northwest,” he grunts.

Pacifica knows to take it and walks with the group to the Mystery Shack. She’d chosen to take McGucket’s offer at the mansion, but she figured passing by the Shack wouldn’t be too bad.

She hopes she won’t be wrong.

Pacifica still feels out of place, standing at the corner of the room as the rest of the Pines crowd over the dining table, catching up and laughing. Her eyes stay on her fumbling fingers.

Why did she agree to this? She never should’ve come — it reminds her too much of her stay at the Mystery Shack during the apocalypse. All she can think of as she sees the couch is the oil that spilled all over it when they were making renovations for the Shacktron. All she can remember when she sees the stairs are the several times she’d paced through them out of nervousness. All she can—

“Hey,” a voice interrupts her thoughts.

Pacifica looks up. In front of her is an older woman, brown, wavy hair tied up in a ponytail and light brown eyes. A warm smile rests on her thick lips.

“Pacifica, right? I’m Melody. Soos’s wife,” she introduces herself. “How are you?”

Melody. Pacifica hasn’t seen her around often, so maybe she isn't exactly from Gravity Falls — meaning she didn’t know Pacifica. Or who she used to be. Oh.

“Hi,” Pacifica says while returning a small smile. “I don’t plan on staying too long; I just thought that it would be nice to visit, but I guess I should just leave—”

“No, don’t!” Melody exclaims.

Pacifica turns back, a little surprised. “You…don’t want me to leave?”

“Gosh, no! Aside from the fact that you’re a guest, it’s just…it’s been a while I’ve talked to another girl that isn’t, well, that isn’t Mabel. She’s great, but we don’t exactly share the same interests.”

Pacifica nods. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“I hear you used to live here,” Melody tells her. “Then you moved and you and Dipper met at college. So. Anything interesting about that?”

She gulps and she feels her fingers go numb. She knows. Melody knows that she was a brat and a jerk to the twins and to the town and she’s going to hate her—

“Pacifica? Are you okay? You look like you’re going to faint,” she asks, concerned. “Pacifica?”

“I’m fine,” she answers quickly. “Fine.”

“Sorry. Was my question uncomfortable? I mean, I know feelings can be pretty hard to talk about, especially if you haven’t come to terms about liking someone—”

( _what_?)

“What? I don’t — I thought you — what are we talking about?” Pacifica asks, confused.

Melody smiles. “You and Dipper. Anything going on?”

Pacifica turns pink. “No! Of course not, I mean — I — he’s great and everything — but I don’t see him that way — he’s cute and funny and a dork, but I couldn’t—”

Her lie isn’t as convincing as she hoped, as Melody only keeps a knowing smile on her face.

“You know, Pacifica,” she says. “All you have to do is tell him. You could spend an entire summer with him without having to hide anything.”

“I’m not hiding anything!” she says defensively.

“Uh huh, and I’m not married to Soos,” Melody says sarcastically. “Hey, if my words mean anything to you, I think you two would be great together.”

Before Pacifica can say something to defend herself, Dipper comes into the room.

“Hey, Pacifica, are you ready to go home—” He stops short the moment he sees that Melody is with her. Dipper stares at her. “Okay, what did you say to her that caused her to blush so much? I’ve literally been trying for _months_ —”

Melody laughs and turns to leave the room. “Feel free to come any time, okay? And don’t be afraid,” she says to Pacifica, while eyeing Dipper.

Pacifica can only hope she isn’t blushing too much.

(she’s wrong.)

* * *

  
  


“What was that about?” Dipper asks after they’ve said their goodbyes. They’re in Stan’s car, driving towards the mansion.

“Nothing,” she says quickly, not looking up from her phone. “Just teasing, that’s all.”

“Okay,” Dipper says, not at all convinced. “Teasing about what?”

“Could you just, like, focus on driving? If the dents in this car are anything to go by, keep your eyes the road, buddy,” she tells him, glancing up once.

Dipper rolls his eyes. “How about we _both_ keep our eyes on the road?”

“I’m not the one driving, am I?” she deadpans. She takes his silence as an opportunity. “Dipper, do you think the people still remember me? As, you know, _me_? Bratty and selfish me? Awful me?”

Dipper loses control for a moment and Pacifica shrieks when they take a sharp curve to the left.

“Dipper! What the—”

“Who told you that? Melody?” he says gravely, and it takes her aback because she’s never really seen his eyes turn such a dark shade.

“No, of course not! Melody would never do that.”

He seems to relax at that. “I — I’m sorry. But why? Why would you ask that?”

She grips her phone tighter. “I don’t know? I mean, Melody was so nice, but she didn’t know who I used to be. I like to think I’ve changed, but I don’t know, what if I haven’t? What if everyone’s just nice to me because I helped out in the apocalypse? I — maybe I am _just_ another link in the world’s worst chain.”

Dipper flinches. “Pacifica, I’m sorry I ever called you that. You know that. But if you want me to say it again, I will. It’s not too late for you to change. And I think you have. Mabel does, too. Even Stan. You’re different now. If the town doesn’t see that, then what they think shouldn’t matter to you.”

Pacifica only takes his hand from the stick shift and squeezes it. Her eyes say thank you, and that’s enough.

  
  
  


Her fingers trace through the walls, feeling every inch of the house she grew up in, no matter how dusty. Where the portraits of her family used to be, pictures of various families of town — Pines, Corduroy, even Northwest. She wonders if that old stain on the wall under one of the portraits is still there. As she passes by, she lifts to portrait by an inch to check. Yup, still there.

There’s something eerily nostalgic about walking through the hallways of her old home — and while one half of her is nervous, the other is bouncing with excitement. She’s _home_ , no matter how many years have passed.

“Here’s your room, Miss Northwest,” one of the butlers says — McGucket’s trusted employee. “I hope you find it well enough to suit your interests.”

And damn right it’s well enough to suit her interests because this is _her old room._ This is the room where she grew up, screaming into the pillow on her bed and trying out different outfits in front of the mirror. And sure, it looks a little different: empty and dusty, but it’s still her room.

And she’s planning to bring it back to life.

“Thank you,” she says gratefully as she turns to the butler, who only nods in return. Without another word, he turns around to leave. Dipper passes him on the way, staring at her from the doorframe.

“So do you like it?” he asks after a moment.

“Yes,” she says. “Thank you, for bringing me here. Thank you for bringing me home.”

Dipper smiles and wraps his arms around her waist. “For you, anything.”

Her arms cling to his shoulders. “I didn’t think I would ever come back,” she murmurs into his ear. “Thank you.”

Dipper lets go of her waist. “Do you want me to help you unpack? Mabel said she wants me back in an hour, and you could come along to, if you’d like. We’re going fishing.”

Imagining the prospect of her on a rickety boat and a fishing rod is enough to make her shudder. “No, thank you,” she says. “Go on ahead. I’ll just be here, unpacking. I wouldn’t want to keep you apart from your family.”

“Are you sure? They’re your family, too, Paz, if you want them to be,” Dipper says with so much honesty Pacifica could cry. “You could unpack later.”

She clicks her tongue in disapproval. “You’re a bad influence, Pines. Procrastinating? I could never.”

Dipper laughs. “Seriously, are you sure? There’s always space for one more on the Stan O’ War II.”

She snorts at the name. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll call you if I get bored.”

“That’s a promise?”

“Mhm,” she says, arms crossed as she watches Dipper leave with a wave. “Promise.”

Once he’s gone, Pacifica sighs and sits at the foot of her bed. She’s got a lot to do, especially if she’s staying for one whole summer. Three months with the Pines. It’s going to be a long ride.

She groans, falling onto her bed. She has work tomorrow.

Pacifica ends up staring at the ceiling for a pod half hour instead of unpacking her things. She can do that later, but a part of her wants to shake her head at the whole aspect of it. Dipper _is_ a bad influence. Too bad he’s too damn cute for her to let him go. And well, he _did_ bring out the best of her, didn’t he?

Dipper makes her head dizzy and causes butterflies to flutter around in her stomach as she tries to make excuses to be near him. That’s gotta mean something, right?

But after all, it’s just a stupid crush. Not love.

(not yet, anyway.)

* * *

  
  
  


They’re lying on Pacifica’s bed on a lazy Saturday afternoon. She’s exhausted, just coming from work, and Dipper’s just tired because of life in general.

“Dipper, can I ask you something?” she mumbles out, too tired to think probably.

“Hit me,” he says.

“Will you be my friend forever?”

The question takes him a little by surprise, but he smiles anyway. Dipper takes her hand.

“Always.”

* * *

  


If there’s one thing Dipper has learned about having a crush on someone, it’s this:

You don’t like two people for the same reason.

He remembers how Wendy made his heart turn into a puddle and how her words made him turn into a nervous train wreck. Her eyes were like the green of the forest, luring him deeper and deeper until he couldn’t see daylight, and her smile was like the sunrise of a new day. She was the calm sea breeze and the light drizzle of the mornings.

But Pacifica is different.

Pacifica has a smile that makes his head spin for weeks and stunning blue eyes that are like electricity and home at that same time. Her words are like the melody of first song on the top forty hits list and holding her hand is like going on a road trip that will never end simply because he doesn’t want it to. She slips Ghost Harassers marathons under his door and he takes them without a second thought. Her sarcastic comebacks and snarky one-liners are enough to drive him wild, and her anger is enough to keep him up for days on end. And yet, he keeps coming back for more. He comes back until each word is enough to unlock his door with a smile and every freckle forms a constellation. She tugs on his heartstrings, and _goddammit_ , he never wanted her to stop.

And for some reason, telling Wendy about his feelings seems a lot easier than telling Pacifica — and telling Wendy was as hard as finding a needle in a haystack. So at this rate, it seems impossible.

But he’s going to do it. He has to.

And maybe he doesn’t have a lot of experience with liking someone, but if this is going to be the one thing that will end him, then so be it.

  


* * *

  


There is only one thing Dipper had forgotten to mention to Pacifica about coming back to Gravity Falls. It’s no big deal, really, it’s not like she cares about having to show up in a pretty dress for a party that the town hosts to celebrate another year of Never Minding All That.

Dammit _, of course_ she cares about that. She’s a Northwest. It’s in her blood.

And maybe her parents forced her to _care_ about these things, but she sort of learned to like the general aspect of parties where she could actually choose what clothes to wear and how to act. Sort of.

So, yeah. It would’ve been a lot better if she was informed earlier.

But she wasn’t, and now she’s trying to pray to whoever’s out there that Mabel’s sewing has gotten a lot better over the years because it’s declared a holiday in the town and thus, the mall is closed.

She pinches the bridge of her nose as she paces back and forth, impatiently waiting for Mabel to finish sewing. It had been five hours since she asked Mabel to patch up and redesign one of her dresses, since it seemed like the closest one that could actually seem formal enough. Why did she have to leave all her best dresses at the apartment?

“Done!” Mabel exclaims, raising the dress in pride. Sweat drips down her face. “Your dress has been Mabel-ified!”

Pacifica takes it from her, staring at it in full length. A lot has changed from the sleeveless light purple dress, and now the skirt has turned darker, pink flowers decorating the edges of one side. It’s a lot prettier than before, if she’s being honest.

She embraces her, careful not to wrinkle the dress. “You’re a life-saver, Mabel! The dress is amazing! Thank you!”

Mabel laughs. “You’re welcome, Miss Northwest,” she says with a bow. “Now, go out it on! Shock the world! Shock my brother!”

“Your brother?” Pacifica asks as the brunette pushes her into the bathroom. “Why would he—”

“Oh, just imagine his face, Pacifica! I bet he’s just dying to see you in a dress!” Mabel’s voice is muffled through the door.

“He’s already seen me in a dress,” Pacifica retorts. “I wear dresses, like, all the time, Mabel.”

“But this one’s different!”

“And why is that?” she questions.

“Because I made it! Duh! Now get the dress on! We still got hair and makeup to do! Grenda and Candy will be here in an hour to help out.” Mabel tells her demandingly.

Pacifica rolls her eyes and puts on the dress anyway, not at all imagining what Dipper’s face would look like.

(why would he care about what she was wearing anyway? just because she liked him didn’t mean he liked her.)

Half an hour later, Candy and Grenda come bursting into the door, earlier than expected and bouncing up and down like there’s no tomorrow.

“Hi, Pacifica,” Candy says softly.

Pacifica feels awkward already. “Hello,” she replies smoothly. “You guys look great.”

“Thanks,” Grenda says, her voice as loud as ever. “Let’s get this pre-party party started!”

Mabel squeals and takes Pacifica’s hands, spinning her around. “The dress looks great on you!” She pushes Pacifica into a chair and combs through her hair. “So what shall it be, Miss Northwest? Buns, braids, or a 90’s look?”

“Braids, please,” she says, a little nervous.

“Grendaaa!” Mabel calls. “She’s all yours! It’s your speciality, after all. I’ll go help Candy.”

Pacifica flashes a smile at Grenda, who makes her way over. Grenda cracks her knuckles, and grabs the brush.

Surprisingly enough, her fingers are extremely gentle, much unlike all the hairstylists Pacifica’s come to encounter before. When Grenda’s done, she looks at the mirror to see that her hair is pulled into a tight braid, and there’s a small, pink flower clipped to hold it all together. It’s really pretty. She actually feels pretty.

“Thank you,” she says kindly to Grenda. She gives her a thumbs up, grinning. “Want me to do yours? I’m not good as you, of course, but I’m not bad at it.”

Grenda nods. “Bring it on!”

And Pacifica lets Grenda’s hair loose from her ponytail and reaches for the brush. She works on Grenda’s hair until her fingers begin to cramp. But she gets the work done, anyway.

Candy and Mabel finish a little bit after Pacifica does, and they both look dazzling. Mabel’s dress is pink, flowing down her knees, but poofy enough to match her style. Candy’s dress brings out her eyes, a light blue with small diamonds embroidered. Grenda’s dress is emerald, and her earrings go with them to match.

Pacifica excuses herself to get a glass of water, walking down the hallway, and down the stairs when she hears a bang cut cleanly through the wooden walls. A door near the end is cracked open, and she figures that it’s where the sound came from.

She peeks through to see Dipper, his back towards her, muttering curses while shaking his throbbing hand up and down. After a moment, he tries working on his tie, but fails impeccably, twisting into various knots and getting it tangled.

“I figured after all these years you would’ve learned how to tie,” she muses as she pushes the door open and walks in. Pacifica doesn’t hesitate to reach for the ribbon and fasten it. The gesture is a little too familiar. “I guess I was wrong.”

When she looks back up at him, she realizes how close their faces are. She can feel his breath on her cheeks, and she lingers on his lips a moment too long, her heart stuck in her throat, before moving up to his eyes. They’re as warm as they’ve always been.

“You look pretty,” he whispers. And as another second passes between them, Dipper blinks and steps back, coughing. “Pretty...pretty good. You look pretty good.”

Pacifica blinks once, twice, thrice. She looks away. “Yeah. You...you, too.”

(she needs to get herself together. right now.)

“Uh, thanks for helping me. With the tie. I would have never managed it without you,” Dipper says awkwardly without looking into her eyes. He flashes her a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Are you and the other girls ready? We should probably get going, if we don’t want to be late.”

Pacifica rolls her eyes. “It’s called being fashionably late, Pines. But yes, they’re probably finished by now.” She takes his hand. “Now, come on. Chances are, they’re already waiting for us in the car.”

Just like she had predicted, the other girls were already waiting for them in the car. By some miracle, they all fit in Grenda’s car, Mabel riding shotgun.

Dipper squirms in his seat, his shoulders pressed next to Pacifica’s. He keeps his eyes on the window, watching the trees blur past. The party is held at McGucket’s mansion, and it can’t possibly be near enough.

(so, yeah. he plans to tell Pacifica that he likes her. but he doesn’t know how or when, and he’s sure as hell doesn’t feel ready to do so. but his gut is pushing him towards her, towards her bright blue eyes and her light smile.)

Pacifica still feels weird in her old home, especially as she steps inside, wearing a dress that isn’t tailored by a big-shot designer and her hair not done by a stylist hired by her parents. It’s weird, but she finds herself comfortable in a pair of ballet flats her parents would hate her to be wearing. She finds comfort in knowing that Dipper stands next to her on one side and Mabel on the other. This is home.

“Wow,” she says breathily. The fountain is up, there are banners bearing the words ‘NEVER MIND ALL THAT’, there’s food placed at every corner, and everyone is dressed presentably. It actually looks a lot better than the parties her parents held. “Mayor Tyler and McGucket sure know how to throw a party.”

“Tell me about it,” Dipper mutters. “You’d think it gets underwhelming over the years, but I’m still surprised every time I come.”

Pacifica pokes his side. “Want to go get some food or are you going to keep staring at that fountain?”

Dipper rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, food sounds great. I’m starving.”

“You just ate, like, an hour ago,” she points out as she places a cookie on her plate.

“I’m a growing boy,” Dipper says defensively while placing both the brownies and the cookies on his own plate. “I need nutrition.”

Pacifica snorts. “You’re tall enough. Save some for the little people, would you?”

“Yeah, you _are_ kind of short,” he teases.

Pacifica elbows him, almost making him drop the plate. He shoots her a look. She only looks at him innocently, biting her lip to hold down a smile.

“I am not short,” she huffs. “You’re just way over your head. Literally.”

Dipper rolls his eyes. “Uh huh. Whatever you say, Northwest. You’re just jealous I can see above your head.”

(can’t see what’s inside her heart, though.)

“You’re just desperate to be better at me at something,” she teases. “Poor Dipper. So desperate, it’s pathetic.”

Dipper opens his mouth to say something, but Mabel barges through, and grabs her brother’s hand.

“Dipper, Dipper, Dipper, oh my gosh, they’ve got rocky road ice cream this year! Well, technically, it’s a chocolate fountain with optional marshmallow and nuts toppings, but _still_ ! We _have_ to go get some!”

“But, Mabel, I thought you—” His words are cut off when his sister drags him away to the other side of the mansion; he’s only able to shoot Pacifica an apologetic look.

The twins stand next to the chocolate fountain. Dipper sees that Mabel wasn’t lying about the toppings — he doesn’t hesitate to get some to eat with the chocolate.

“Want some?” he asks, holding his plate out towards her.

Mabel only crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. “No thanks, brother. You _know_ I hate rocky road.”

“Which is why it makes no sense as to why you had to pull me away from Pacifica through faking that you actually love rocky road,” Dipper deadpans. “You gave me false hope that you had a change of heart. Come on, what do you want?”

“Have you told her yet?” Mabel asks without missing a beat.

He takes a bite from his marshmallow. “Told who what?”

Mabel sighs, frustrated. “Told Pacifica you liked her!”

“Shh!” Dipper says. “At this rate, you’ll tell her before I do.”

Mabel laughs, throwing her head back. Then she stares at him emotionlessly. “Seriously, bro. Are you _ever_ going to tell her? ‘Cause if you are, right now is the perfect moment. You’re here in a suit, she’s here in a pretty dress, there’s a slow song playing—”

“I get it,” Dipper interrupts. He shifts foot, suddenly nervous. “Look, I’ll tell her, alright? I just need to get a good moment.”

Mabel’s expression flickers into a smile. “That’s my Dipper. Go get her,” she says enthusiastically while shoving him back into the direction of the blonde.

(here goes nothing.)

“Hey — hi, Pacifica,” he manages to say without tripping over his own feet.

Pacifica smiles. “Hey, you came back. I thought you’d be stuck at the rocky road fountain for the rest of the night,” she jokes.

Dipper scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah…me, too.”

“Hey, do you want to check out that secret room? The one with all the paintings? I haven’t got the guts to go check if it’s still there by myself, so…”

Dipper nods and cracks a smile. “Sure. Lead the way, Miss Northwest.”

It takes a while to remember where it was, but sure enough, it’s still there. Dipper follows behind Pacifica, stepping into the dimly lit room. They walk around, looking at everything. Every painting is still there.

Pacifica stays silent through all of it.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. “Pacifica?”

She jumps at his touch. “Y—yeah, I’m fine.  Just thinking. Let’s — let’s go in the garden.”

Waiting for them in the garden is a tree with small lanterns to decorate the branches. White Christmas lights hang around the walls, lighting up the place.

(Dipper remembers what happened here years before. they rolled down the small hill, and captured the ghost in the mirror. then she hugged him. of course he remembers.)

(he wonders if she does to.)

(maybe he’s about to find out.)

“You hugged me here,” Dipper ends up blurting out loud. His cheeks are burning. “Not that it matters. You probably forgot. But it — it matters to me, at least.”

Pacifica leans against the tree. She meets his eyes when she says, “Oh?”

Dipper takes a step forward. He can feel his fingers shaking; he’s not sure how he’s standing. “Yeah. It does. A lot, actually. How about you?”

Pacifica reaches a hand out to brush his hair out of his eyes. She’s glowing like the sunset.

(Pacifica always liked brown eyes. Dipper’s eyes, especially. they’re like a secret, waiting to be revealed at the right moment — when the sunlight shines above them and turns them into gold.)

Dipper’s breathing quickens, when he sees Pacifica leaning towards him. He finds himself doing the same thing.

“Yeah,” she whispers. “It matters to me, too. A lot more than it should.”

“That’s good to hear,” Dipper murmurs.

Pacifica’s lips meet his slowly, and it’s a soft and sweet kiss that makes Dipper’s knees go weak. He cups her face to pull her closer, and her arms wrap around his neck. It’s a lot better than he ever expected it would be — and this certainly isn’t the way he was planning to tell her, but well. He isn’t complaining because dammit, he’s kissing Pacifica Northwest. And she’s kissing him.

She pulls away a moment too soon, and Dipper’s eyes open. Her eyebrows narrow. “You taste like rocky road. Are you kidding me?”

Dipper laughs, pressing his forehead against hers. “I told you I’d get you to like it.”

Pacifica tries to stop herself from smiling, but fails. “I never said I liked it.”

“Well, you didn’t stop,” he points out.

She only rolls her eyes. “Make sure that you haven’t eaten rocky road before I kiss you again or I’m going to pay you to forget any of this ever happened.”

“How much are we talking about?” Dipper jokes, earning a shove from Pacifica. “But seriously, do you mean it? There’s going to be a next kiss?”

“Yes, you dork,” Pacifica mutters before pulling him in for another kiss. “You’ll keep getting more if you make me some nachos when we go inside.”

“That I can do, my lady,” Dipper murmurs.

Pacifica smiles, and looks into his eyes.

They’re bright and warm — just like they usually are.

Just like always.

**Author's Note:**

> hmu at superishs.tumblr.com!!


End file.
